I'm Not You
by Color With Marker
Summary: Post-RENT. Mark knows he'll never be able to replace Mimi.


"Goddamnit, Meems, I wish you would've lasted longer. Yes, I admit the fact that you could go two years after that Christmas Eve is pretty damn impressive, but when you left us, everything changed. And it was the small things at first. Maureen lost one of her partners-in-crime, and of course, this meant no one's restricting her and Collins from terrorizing the neighborhood. Joanne's the same though, that's good. But Roger... holy shit, how Roger's changed..."

* * *

"I fucking hate funerals," Roger declared the second he walked through the loft door. He takes a large gulp from the bottle of beer in his hand before stumbling forward.

"You were fine before we made it to the Life and started drinking," Mark commented. He put down the remaining three beers from the six-pack Collins had bought them on the metal table and flopped down on the couch. His roommate has been drinking as soon as the first shot glass was in his grasp less than an hour ago. When Mark made them leave five minutes ago, the others understood.

"They're a reminder about how fucking depressed you are now that your true love is fucking dead." Roger ripped off his tie and threw it on the ground. "Now I know how the fuck Collins felt."

"You wouldn't know, you went to Santa Fe," Mark reminded him. "Collins got drunk with Benny and they made up." He purposefully left out the part about how he was the one who had to chase after Mimi and bring her home to get a few things before going to rehab.

Roger laughed bitterly. "Yeah, that was fun," he said. "I should've stayed there. Then I wouldn't have to deal with this, this bullshit."

"If you'd stayed, you would've had to find out about Mimi the hard way!" Mark's eyes widened. He took a deep breath before grabbing his camera and heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Roger asked.

"I need to clear my head," the filmmaker answered. "I'll go see how the others are holding up." He started turning the doorknob when suddenly Roger's hand was on his wrist.

"Don't leave me, Mark," he begged.

Mark looked into his best friend's eyes. "I swear I'll be back," he promised. Roger nodded and let go of him, and the filmmaker stared at the floor as he departed.

* * *

Mark stared at the ceiling in his room. Technically, it was Roger's room, but his bed is covered in songs and films and other junk, and he came home to see his roommate passed out on the couch. An empty bed was something he hadn't slept in for months. Why pass up a good thing? When he went back to the Life Café, the others hadn't left yet, and the first words out of their mouths were about Roger's condition. Mark just said that Roger was struggling and left it at that. He drank with his fellow Bohemians solemnly and had to keep Maureen from dancing on the counter at the bar. He came home to find a few broken bottles in the kitchen, which he had expected, and just cleaned it up without waking up Roger. Now, his mind was wandering, random memories flickering in front of him, mostly of Mimi and Angel and how much he missed the two of them.

He heard the curtain slide over, meaning Roger was awake and most likely wanted his bed back.

"I'll sleep on the couch," Mark offered. He started to sit when he felt Roger's cold fingertips on his arm.

"Don't," the songwriter insisted. "Stay." Mark is pushed back on his back. He feels the mattress shift as Roger lied on the bed. He's pulled into the musician's arms in an awkward hug.

"Are you sure?" Mark's voice cracked.

"Please." The hairs on Roger's chin tickle Mark's shoulder. "I need you here."

Mark knew better than to fight this, especially since Roger's fast asleep. He accepted the situation and soon was out cold too.

* * *

This routine continued for weeks. It became a pattern. Mark went out and filmed things, visited friends at their apartments or jobs, and just tried to move past losing Mimi. Roger stayed home and moped or tried writing another song. When night came, Mark and Roger were in bed together, hugging or eventually spooning. Roger needed this to cope, Mark knew this. He just went along with it and let it happen.

Then Roger said something that changed everything.

"Marky, do you love me?"

Mark wasn't sure which caught him off-guard more, the question itself or being called Marky. Only two people had called him Marky: Maureen, while they were dating or she was trying to convince him of something that was ridiculous; and Angel, because who was going to tell her not to? Roger, however, didn't call him anything but Mark.

"Yes, Roger."

Roger scooted closer to Mark. "Good."

"I have to meet Collins in an hour." Mark got out of bed and dressed in clothes that were slightly less dirty than the rest of his laundry. Usually, he didn't mind getting changed in front of Roger, but he could feel his eyes staring at him while he undressed. He reached for his camera and said, "I'll be back in a couple of hours, okay?"

"Okay." Roger kissed Mark's cheek and rolled over in bed so his back was to his friend. Mark stood there in shock before leaving.

* * *

"He kissed you?" Collins asked.

"Right here," Mark confirmed, pointing to the spot on his face.

"I thought something like this would happen," the philosopher muttered while twirling paste with his fork.

Mark raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Roger. You know how he gets when he loses someone."

"That's not true. When he lost April, he got clean."

"And his violence wasn't entirely about going through withdrawal, and we both know it. And when we lost Angel, he went berserk - and don't you dare say it was entirely about Mimi. Now look what's happening now that she's gone. He can't run, he can't hide, he can't fight. Now his way to deal with the situation is through lust or love or maybe even just having someone to be there. And that person, Mark, is you."

Mark groaned, knowing that Collins was right. "So what do I do?"

"There's nothing you can do. You just have to let it happen." Collins eats one of the meatless balls on his plate. Mark stared at his plate of fries in silence while sucking water through a straw.

* * *

Collins turned out to be right after about the situation. There was definitely the urge to have someone just to touch in Roger. The kisses on Mark's cheek became common in the loft, and once in a while, Roger snatched a quick kiss on the lips. Mark just dealt with is and let Roger do his thing. When Maureen saw and asked if they were "finally fucking", Joanne smacked her girlfriend's shoulder and scolded the crude diva. Mark declined, although he wondered if the relationship between the two men would eventually turn to that.

One day, when Benny was being generous enough to let the boys have heat and hot running water, Mark took advantage and decided to take a nice, long shower. When he finished, satisfied with the feeling on cleanliness, he pulled back to curtains to see Roger standing against the wall. Mark was surprised for only a second; Roger was so scared of being alone that he was almost always within five feet of Mark. The filmmaker didn't scream or try to cover himself, but just stood there.

"We have hot water. You know, if you want a shower," Mark said. He knew it wasn't why Roger was here.

"Thanks," Roger replied, licking his lips. He took Mark's hand and led his nude friend to their shared bed. He pushed the smaller man on his back and leaned down, their lips crashing together. His tongue forced his way into Mark's mouth, and rather than fight it, Mark kissed him back. He wasn't crazy about what Roger was doing, but he knew Roger needed this.

* * *

"Now he comes to bed every night and just starts undressing me without saying a word. It's not like I hate it - the sex is amazing, I won't lie - but it's almost meaningless. He's even muttered your name every now and then. At least he's being safe. I don't know where the fuck he got the money to afford condoms. I bet Collins is buying them for Roger for everyone's sake. The last thing we need is for another one of us to be infected, right? At least it'll keep Roger from finally losing it... fuck, Meems, I wish you were still here. Then things could go back to the way they were, and you and Roger would still be together. I know he still misses you and still loves you, there's no doubt. He's trying to hide it by using me, but... I'm just not you. I can never be you for him... but I don't think he'll ever realize it himself."

With that, Mark set down a red rose in front of Mimi's tombstone, identical to the one he also placed at Angel's, and walked home.


End file.
